“What happened to the Great Wall of Pillows?” I ask.
“It got too hot with all the pillows.” He rolls over to my side of the bed and burrows his face into the silk pillowcase I brought from home and have held on to for three years. Now it’s going to have oils on it from his dumb face. “Mmm, smells nice.”
“So, you then searched out my body heat?”
“Well, then I got cold.” With great effort, he hurls his body upright and holds his head in his hands, elbows braced against his knees as he sits on the edge of the bed.
The hard lines of his back stretch as his spine curves into an arch and something pops. “Fuck, I slept like a rock.”
“I know,” I tell him. “That wasn’t the only rock-like thing in bed this morning.”
“That’s just a natural response,” he says, and when he stands up, I have to consciously avert my eyes to avoid his half-mast boner that is very much visible in his black boxer briefs. Or maybe that’s justhis starting line, and he’s not hard at all. Oh god, I have got to stop thinking about his—
“Clo?” he asks. “You there? You look like you’re concentrating hard enough to pop a blood vessel.”
“I’m just—I’m just wondering why the hell you can’t sleep in pajamas like a normal person. Do you have no sense of modesty?”
He shrugs. “What do I have to be modest about? We ran around in our underwear all the time when we were kids. Sometimes even buck-ass naked.”
“Kids,” I remind him.
“So just my underwear, then? That’s what’s got you so anxious.” He shakes his fingers through his bed head, and my eyes wander to the familiar, faint scar bisecting his chest—which is defined in ways that I don’t recall—from when he had open-heart surgery as a baby to correct a defect.
“It’s not just your underwear. It’s—” My hands flap senselessly. “Never mind. I guess I’m nervous about classes and this work-study program I signed up for. And I’m antsy about my Intro to Pottery class. My adviser bullied me into signing up for an elective.”
“Work-study?” he asks. “Where are you working? How do you plan on having time for a job?”
I check the time on my phone as I run a brush through my hair. I should have done a trial walk over to my buildings yesterday. “Either I make time or I’m broke. I know that’s a novel concept for you. And not that it’s your business, but I’m just working a few night shifts as a library clerk. Plus, I’m picking up catering shifts when I can.” Marianne’s brother is the head waiter for the university’s contracted catering company, and she said I can take a few shifts with her when they need extra bodies.
“The night shift? Catering?”
“Is that a problem?” I ask as I gather up the stack of clothing I’d set out last night while I had the room to myself. “Don’t tell me you take issue with your wife working, Bennett.”
He scoffs. “No, of course not. I just know that holding on to a scholarship is a full-time job.” He rifles through the dresser on his side of the room and yanks on a white T-shirt. When he turns back to me, I notice the discreet H for Hermès embroidered on the pocket. His steady blue eyes watch me from across our bed, and he makes no effort to hide the way he takes in my bare legs and my chest. I’d yanked my bra off after he fell asleep and dropped it off the side of the bed. Which I totally forgot about until this very moment when I realize that the shape of my nipples is definitely visible.
I press the pile of clothes to my chest and begin to gather up the rest of my things. “How… how long does it take to walk over to Mariner Hall from here?”
A lazy smile curls along his lips. “A good twenty minutes unless you’ve figured out the campus buses.”
“Fuck!” I don’t have time to go wait for a stall in the bathrooms to change clothes and I’m also pretty sure it will look a little suspicious if I’m constantly leaving the room I share with my husband to get changed. I take the yellow lacy bra from the pile of clothes and pull it through the sleeve of my baggy sleep T-shirt.
Bennett stands there, watching me like I’ve just started walking around on my hands.
“Are you just going to stare?”
He bites down on his lower lip, dimples just barely present. “Yeah, if that’s okay. Besides, you’ve seen me in my underwear.”
“That wasyourdoing,” I remind him as I pull the straps of my bra over my shoulders and then shimmy out of my shorts. His eyes widen as they hit the ground and his nostrils flare when my panties follow.The perk of barely skimming five foot one is that most T-shirts come down past the middle of my thighs. I am most definitely not Bennett’s type, but if he’s going to walk around our room with a boner the size of an elephant trunk, then I can at least take pleasure in watching him squirm.
“A matching set?” he asks, his brow hiked at my yellow lace panties as I pull them up my thighs.
“I like to match. Especially on the first day of school,” I explain. “It makes me feel prepared and it’s good luck.”
“I, for one, am feeling very lucky, Clo.” His gaze is hot and intent.
“Clover.” I make a spinning motion with my hand, and Bennett begrudgingly turns around so that I can put on my plaid dress. “Okay, it’s safe to turn back around.”
He still stands there in a T-shirt and boxer briefs, and I find myself asking, “Don’t you have classes to get to?”
